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COPKRIGIIT DEPOSIT. 



Everyday Poems 



By 



GEORGE ELLISTON 




CINCINNATI 

STEWART KIDD COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



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Copyright, 1921, by 
STEWART KIDD COMPANY 



All Rights Reserved 
Copyright in England 



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©CI.A624361 



THIS BOOK, 

the making of which has been one of the happiest 

occupations of my life, is affectionately 

dedicated to the many friends whose 

love has made living worth while. 



DEDICATION 

What are these verses that I write for you 
Of thoughts or dreams or vagaries of weather 
That we have often spoken of together; 
Are they just words that follow one another? 

Not so, for in my verse, oh, friend of mine, 
I give you all the treasure life has brought, 
And all my mind so cunningly has wrought, 
I give you of myself — my very soul. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

My Bit J1 

Muddling 'Round - I2 

Cincinnati J 3 

Forgotten Days ----- H 

Fulfillment ------ 15 

My Skyscraper - - - - - 16 

Compensation ------ i° 

When Spring Is New - J 9 
A Street of Every Day - =20 

My Song - - 2I 

At Sunset „----- 22 

Mother's Day - 2 3 

April Magic - 2 4 

Money ----- 2 5 

Day Dreams =——-'- 26 

To a Robin - 2 7 

Personal Anthology - - - - 28 

The Flag - ' - - - 29 

Violets - - 30 

Age-Old - 3i 

Rookwood - 3 2 

Passion ------ 33 

At Forty - - 34 

Newspapers - 35 

Mystery Melody . - - - - 36 

Spring Coquetry ----- 37 

Bridges - - 38 

7 



Page 

Spring Sunshine 39 

Renewal - 40 

April Awakening 41 

Childhood Faith 42 

Hidden Gold 43 

Fear 44 

Pyramids 45 

Non-Support ------ 46 

Mistress Play ----- 47 

The Point of View - 48 

Victors of Destiny - 49 

May 50 

My Ship ------ §1 

Roses 52 

To a Replica of Chester Beach's Night - 53 

Trail's End - - 54 

Blue Rookwood - 55 

Life Lure ------- 56 

On Night Duty - 57 

"Cast Your Bread" - 58 

My Flag 59 

Old-Fashioned Flowers 60 

Yellow Roses 61 

Heart of Gold 62 

Keeping the Victory - 63 

Courage 65 

Jonathan's Song 66 

The Fourth 68 

Salute 69 

Honeysuckle ------ 70 

My Garden ------ yj 

8 



Page 

In a Symphony Gallery 72 

A Thanksgiving Prayer - - - 73 

To a Debutante 74 

To-morrow Is Another Day - 75 

My Little House ----- 76 

Pilgrim 7 8 

Newspaper Idyl ----.-. 79 

Moon-Magic ------ 81 

Infinity ------- 82 

Dream Faces ------ 83 

Home Lights ------ 84 

Two Verses ------ 85 

Six-Thirty - 86 

Life Mystery - 87 

Consolation ------ 88 

Two Thousand --■-.-- 89 

Portals of Home - - - - - 90 

Vagabonding - 9 1 

Love Song ------ 92 

Love's Coming 93 

Snow Birds ------ 94 

Star Above the Christmas Tree - - 95 

In a Wedding Ring ----- 96 

My Christmas Your Christmas - - 97 

Death In Old Age ----- 98 

The Christmas Tree - 99 

My Grate Fire - 100 

My Pear Tree ----- 101 

Clocks - - 102 

Health Song ------ 103 

Dull Stars i°4 

9 



Page 

Sky Gardens 105 

Street Cars 106 

Book Ends 107 

Enemies 108 

To Be Happy 109 

Pay Envelopes no 

Happiness ------ m 

Vistas of Distance 112 



10 



MY BIT 



QOME add bright gardens to the score 

Of human treasure trove, 
And some add scientific lore 
To what mankind's achieved. 

Many and precious are the things 
Added every year, 

As one who thinks and dreams and sings 
I crave to add a verse. 



II 



MUDDLING 'ROUND 

, J GET so tired of all 

The straining after something new 
Much curious verse they call 
Vers libre and many pictures 
That they name cubistic — 
Or is it futuristic? 

I do not like a thing 
I do not understand, and no 
One understands. I cling 
To poems meaning clear, 
And pictures, especially 
With purpose plain to see. 

I'm tired of muddling 'round, 

And guessing at the thought behind, 

And posing most profound; 

The old sweet joy in art 

Is lost entirely 

In deep, dark mystery. 



12 



CINCINNATI 

QINCINNATI, home of my adoption, 

I love you better every passing year. 
You are to me as kindred near and dear. 
Your hills are living joys of every day; 
Your valley-heart a throbbing, pulsing way. 
I love you all in all forever. 

I love your bridges flung across that stream, 
Whose waters golden in the sunlight gleam 
In springtime, and in winter's cold and snow, 
A gorgeousness of icy beauty know; 
Called beautiful, this river, long before 
I learned its mystic and majestic lore. 

I love your winding wayward streets that climb 

The hills, and many, many is the time 

I wander up to some high pinnacle 

And stand entranced, the distant view to marvel. 

I love you, too, in lowly streets and places — 

Your rows of little homes have simple graces. 

Cincinnati, home of my adoption, 

A little center in yourself of art, 

Of music, and with strivings in your heart. 

For all the best this old world has to give, 

To me it is a privilege here to live, 

And love you all in all forever. 



13 



FORGOTTEN. DAYS 

J?ORGOTTEN days of long ago, 
I wonder where you are ! 

And if perchance we'll meet again 
On some far-distant star! 

I wonder do you wait for me, 
Like children lost and sad, 

And if my coming once again 
To you will make you glad? 

I would not like to think that you 

Are lost for all of time; 
But rather that you lived somewhere 

And helped me make this rhyme. 



14 



FULFILLMENT 

(Written for and reprinted from American 
Poetry Magazine) 

QTRANGE lands and open spaces call to me, 

And yet the city holds me in a vise; 
Wide fields and great expanse far flung and free 
Would mean a bit of earthly paradise. 

Great plains that roll far out to meet the sky, 
My poor heart craves in its encasing walls; 

But I must struggle on and struggling die, 
While still to me a free life calls and calls. 

Dear God, if circumscribed my life must be, 
So that I lose the goal of heart's behest, 

Grant me that in some fair eternity 
My soul in heavenly plains may gain its quest. 



IS 



MY SKYSCRAPER 

"DALE grey and gold it stands against the sky, 

My skyscraper. 
Not mine in truth, for none so poor as I, 

And yet, mine, too, 
For though no court-house deed records it so, 

That gold-grey shaft 
Is every day more mine, and this I know, 

With joy increasing, 
More mine because I love it ever better, 

And every year 
I am the more its architect's poor debtor, 

For all my joy. 

Each morning as I move with countless others, 

To daily tasks, 
I step apart from these my busy brothers, 

Heads down, work bent, 
And slowly move with eyes fixed far above 

That hurrying throng, 
That I may ever see the shaft I love 

In morning light. 
Its golden crown above the city's mist 

Rises aloft, 
By every little sunbeam gaily kist, 

My skyscraper. 

Ah, and at evening, when my day is done, 

And homeward bent, 
I view the shining shaft in setting sun, 

'Tis beauty rare, 
But not more wonderful than when at night 

It stands transfigured 
Ablaze from tower and window pane with light, 

A jeweled castle. 
To me it is Arabian Nights come true 

For all to see, 
And every time I gaze a beauty new 

Stirs all my soul, 

16 



And through and through my being thrills and 
thrills, 

With love and joy 
As my rapt heart with all its glory fills, 

My skyscraper. 



17 



COMPENSATION 

(Written for Mrs. Samuel H. Taft) 

J LONGED to paint a picture, 

Write a poem or a song; 
I dreamed of such endeavor night and day; 
But I knew naught of painting, 
And my music all went wrong, 
My verses did not tell what I would say. 

Then He who guides the universe 

Gave me a flower garden, 

That is picture, song and poem all in one, 

And, because my hopes find solace there, 

The things that might have been 

Are as real to me as if my goal I'd won. 

Each year my garden's vistas 

Are the pictures I achieve. 

My verses blossom forth in every rose; 

And birds and bees and butterflies 

That through my garden weave, 

Sing songs I know but that I can't compose. 



18 



WHEN SPRING IS NEW 

T CARE not for the springtime 
When the season has grown old, 

For all spring's fascinations 
Then are stories often told; 
But oh, when spring is new, 
With skies a wondrous blue, 
And peeping through the snow, 
Anemones will blow; 
When lilacs scent the breeze, 
And all the red bud trees 
A symphony of rose 
In woodlands dark disclose — 

Oh, then to me, the world's 

Almost too lovely to be true. 

I care not for the springtime 
As it merges into summer, 

Its story is as weary 

As the veriest dreary mummer— 
But when the robin's call 
Sounds from the garden wall, 
And when each little leaf, 
Brand-new, unfurls its sheaf; 
And violet purpling hills 
Rebuke still icy rills, 
My soul goes out to meet 
The spring, with joy complete — 

And catches, in its happiness, 

A mystic hint of heaven. 



19 



A STREET OF EVERY DAY 

r P HERE'S a vista from my window — just a 

street of every day, 
With shabby houses bordering it, and dirty lads 

at play; 
But it somehow means the world to me, this 

common little street, 
Though its rows of homes are rusty and its 

lawns are never neat. 

I love the street in sunshine, and most of all in 

rain; 
I love it when it quivers to the organ-grinder's 

strain ; 
To me its trees are lovely though they're neither 

straight nor tall, 
The essence of enchantment's made the street 

my all in all. 

For I've a plot upon the street whose very soil's 
my own, 

A home — house of my heart's blood and the mar- 
row of my bone, 

As drab without as all the rest — this little house 
of mine, 

But oh, to me dreams glorified, a heart's desire, 
a shrine. 



20 



MY SONG 



[^ORD, let the song I sing 

Ring true, 
And let it always bring 
Message 

Of help or cheer to those 
Who read. 

To restless hearts — repose — 
And balm, 

To those who saddened weep, 
That they 

May still a stout heart keep. 
Comfort 

Along the way, I crave, 
To add 
With words, uplifting, brave. 

I sing for joy of it, 

But let 

My words be apt and fit 

To help 

My brothers live their days 

Upright — 

Amid the world's amaze, 

Hardships, 

Distractions and confusions. 

Let me 

Help men keep their illusions, 

Ideals, 

And dreams, and that high goal 

Not of 

This earth but of the soul. 



21 



AT SUNSET 

J PON a mountain, near the sea I'll build 
When all the struggle and the striving cease 
And day shall follow day long and serene 
And nights shall be star-rimmed and full of 
peace. 

Then I will look back on the years and think 
Of crowded days and clanging city street 

Where I have beaten out my destiny 

But visions of them shall be swift and fleet. 

And all my time shall be a happiness 
With but one longing, dear, unsatisfied 

For I shall often wish for you and grieve 
Not to have reached the goal before you died. 

But when the summer winds blow fair and sweet 
With pine scent that you loved, and breath of 
sea, 
Oh, I shall know that you are not afar 

But that you share this place, we dreamed, 
with me. 



22 



MOTHER'S DAY (Sunday, May 8) 

A COTTAGE in the twilight, 
Playthings about the floor 
And you, with eyes of lovelight, 
Singing my lullabye o'er. 
Oh, Mother memories! 

And then grown much, much older, 
I sat close by your knee, 

Listening to gorgeous stories 
Your fancy wove for me. 
Oh, Mother memories! 

Days of my wilful teens 
And days of college stress, 

Ever your love encompassed 
A wondrous life caress. 
Ah, Mother memories! 

To-day I wear your flower, 
Beautiful mother of mine, 

And pray to be made worthy 
Of thoughts so near divine 
As Mother memories. 



23 



APRIL MAGIC 

^PRIL came in my window fragrant with the 

spring 
And cast a halo over each familiar thing 
Here in my little room, until the very air 
Was golden with enchantments and with dreams 

so fair 
The dull and drab of every day was lost to view. 

It was as if I reveled in a garden old 
My pin cushion, a visionary marigold, 
My curtains blue and white were changed to in- 
nocence, 
My walls a lilac hedge of gorgeous purple tints; 
Each simple thing touched with a wand and 
made anew. 

Sweet April, come into my inmost life as well, 

And work there with the magic of your lovely 
spell; 

Changing the commonplace to beauty every- 
where ; 

Make of my mind a garden with only growing 
there 

Blossoms that crown thoughts that are upright, 
fine and true. 



24 



MONEY 

TWTONEY, money, money that jingles in my 

pocket, 
To buy a golden locket, 

Or a house that keeps the rain out, 

Or a gown to gaily flout — 
But may it never buy for me a friend. 

Money, money, money — So much will money 

buy — 
Titles great and high, 

Jewels rare and olden, 

Pleasure fair and golden, 
But it cannot buy a sunny day. 

Money, money, money that many live and die for, 

And the weak and wishful lie for, 
That's after all so futile, 
Compared with things worth while, 

May it never swerve me from High Heaven. 



25 



DAY DREAMS 



F^AY Dreams, Day Dreams, 
Light as a gossamer net, 
Flit in the twilight to me, 
Over an amethyst sea, 
Visions of beauty and love, 
Vague as the white clouds above, 
Misty and lovely as starlight — 
Day Dreams, Day Dreams. 

Day Dreams, Day Dreams, 
Dimpled and smiling appear 
Faces of beautiful girls, 
Framed in the softest of curls, 
Castles on islands of gold, 
Where no one ever grows old, 
Princes in marvelous brocade — 
Day Dreams, Day Dreams. 

Day Dreams, Day Dreams, 

Why should a sad world frown, 

Why all my dreaming deny, 

What could I ever buy 

Half so gay or alluring, 

Half so surely enduring, 

As this that my soul provides? 

Day Dreams, Day Dreams. 

Day Dreams, Day Dreams, 
I will dream on to the end; 
Joys that my day dreams give 
Illumine each hour that I live, 
Empty life's greatest missions, 
Sordid life's best ambitions, 
Minus the Make-Believe Land- 
Day Dreams, Day Dreams. 



26 



TO A ROBIN 

X? OBIN upon my window sill, 

So gaily briskly pert, 
With quirky little turns of bill, 

So pecky and alert, 
A-twisting there so jerkily, 

As if strung on a wire, 
A-turning there so perkily, 

You never seem to tire. 

A-snapping are your beady eyes, 

With coquetry of being, 
Alert for any quick surprise, 

A world uncertain seeing; 
Friendly, but oh, so cautious, too, 

And poised for sudden flight, 
Testing a friendship all too new 

With all your subtle might. 

One must be sure of friendships, Robin, 
And test them day by day; 

For man was born in original sin- 
One did his Lord betray; 

So look at me well and carefully, 
Before you build your nest; 

There in my fine old apple tree— 
The tree that I love best. 



27 



PERSONAL ANTHOLOGY 

rPHE world has a curious way 
Of choosing what it wants; 
Now I would act in a play, 

But am made a clerk at a desk. 

Because long ago I was apt 

At figures, subtracting and adding, 
My soul was caught and trapped 

And chained to arithmetic. 

Oh, I do not love to be here, 
Adding figures row on row; 

But I stay on year after year, 
For one must be sure of food. 



28 



THE FLAG 

T ALWAYS feel the flag has life— 

The life of those 
Who gave their blood in battle strife 

For its great cause ; 
And when I see it flying free 

I always think 
That those who gave it victory 

Are somehow near; 
Their souls still guarding its fair fame, 

They could not go, 
Who gave their all in freedom's name 

To some far realm, 
And give themselves to calm and peace 

Nay not until 
Wars on this earth forever cease. 

And so I feel 
The flag in truth a living thing 

To which none can 
Enough allegiance bring, 

Or love, to pay 
The debt he owes to those who gave 

Their all to it. 



29 



VIOLETS 



[ STOLE two purple violets 
And pressed them in my letter. 
What could be better 

To tell my love? 

And back by post there came to me 
Two smiling kisses, sweet; 
But joy was fleet — 

They, too, were stolen. 

L' Envoi 

Both violets and kisses now 

Attain to dubious fame 

A lawyer's game 
In musty courts! 



30 



AGE— OLD 



AS long ago, sweetheart, 

As the first day 
Has our love been a part 
Of life's great scheme. 

As long ago, my dear, 

As the first night 
Your soul to mine was near, 

This flame we feel, 

Blazed as they lit the stars 

In that dark sky, 
And chose the planet Mars 

Earth's company. 

Through all the centuries, Sweet, 

This passion grew; 
To us alone our love 

Is shining new. 



31 



ROOKWOOD (1880-1920) 

(Written for John Dee Wareham) 

TWT OTHER of beautiful thoughts imprisoned 

in clay, 
Fragments of sea, or of sky, or the blossoms 
of May, 
O, what a treasure you bring me ! 
O, the rare songs that you sing me ! 
Joys of my soul that are past all recording. 

Here in my vase is the essence of exquisite 
thought, 

Into what color and mold so splendidly wrought ; 
O, but the glory you lend me 
In this fair urn that you send me; 

This is a glory beyond all rewarding. 

You that have saved for me perfume of wonder- 
ful flowers, 
You that have tinted to gold many marvelous 
hours, 
What is this thing that you make me? 
That it can never forsake me, 
That it remains a fixed part of my living? 

More than a structure of hands is this gorgeous 

vase, 
In it that subtle soul substance, the life of my 
race, 
Wisdom of ages you bring me, 
Music of masters you sing me; 
Heritage, to me, of centuries giving. 



32 



PASSION 



pASSION swept through my soul 

And left it scarred and white 
Taking a bitter toll 
For small, brief happiness, 
Leaving my life a night 
Of blackness, like a room 
In darkness, lamp gone out. 

Now all my days pass by 
Laggard and slow and stilled 
And yet I do not sigh 
Nor look back longingly; 
I am as one fulfilled, 
I know the bitter-sweet 
And would, of it, be free. 



33 



AT FORTY 

[ HOPE I shall never lose 

The sense of your nearness to me, 
That it goes forever with me, 

A-singing, through and through me. 

When I walk alone in the garden, 

You walk there by my side, 
As though in flesh and person, 

And cannot be denied. 

I know you are far, far distant, 
But your soul is here with me, 

And the sense of your nearness lingers, 
As tonic as breath of the sea. 

Oh, I pray I may never lose 

The sense of your nearness to me, 

Dear Self of my Youth, a-thrilling, 

And a-singing through and through me. 



34 



NEWSPAPERS 

TX7HERE bandits come into their own 

And shine in pictured places, 
Where three words tell a life love and 

There are tips upon the races. 
Where debutantes attain to glory 

And fame in one short season, 
And murders loom up nice and gory. 

With more thrills than Poe's raven, 
A gorgeousness of vaudeville, 

With all the world a-playing, 
Divorcees, kings, and pugilists, 

Into the vision straying. 

The day would never be complete 
Without a favorite news-sheet. 



35 



MYSTERY MELODY 

T-TE sang far off, an early morning bird, 
A sweet, sweet bit of lovely melody, 
And all my heart was moved and thrilled and 
stirred, 
As morning breezes brought his song to me. 

It was a song, he sang, of long ago; 

To me it brought a memory ever dear — 
The happiest retrospect, dear heart, I know, 

Of gorgeous summer days when you were 
near. 

And then his singing ceased and he was gone — 
The silence closed about a deeper gloom; 

Then suddenly it came to me, with dawn, 
Yourself had sung to me beyond the tomb. 



36 



SPRING COQUETRY 

U p ON a day 

When all the world was gay, 
And violets frolicked out, 
And sunlight shone about, 
I fell in love with spring. 

Oh, foolish one, 

Gone is the glorious sun, 

And frost has nipped the flowers, 

And gloomy are the hours- — 

I fairly hate the spring! 



37 



BRIDGES 

T3RIDGES, like etchings in morning light, 
Bridges the jeweled romances of night, 
Bridges like bits of cobwebby lace 
Find in my heart a most definite place — 
Bridges that span the Ohio. 

Bridges that stir a new art in my soul, 
Bridges that carry me oft to my goal, 
Bridges of strength yet of delicate beauty, 
Loving you is a great joy, not a duty — 
Bridges that span the Ohio. 

Bridges a-stretching far out to the blue, 
Bridges like incense or myrrh or rue, 
Bridges, rare beauty for those inland born, 
Priceless to cities your glories adorn — 
Bridges that span the Ohio. 

Bridges that stretch away under the stars, 
Bridges unmindful of tragedy scars, 
Bridges of joy and of misery, too, 
Keepers of secrets, old and new, 
Bridges that span the Ohio. 



38 



SPRING SUNSHINE 

(Written for Mrs. Martin E. McKee) 

TA7 INTER'S sunshine stern and cold, 

Is but a miser's hoarded gold, 
A smile across the rainbow snow, 
Impersonal, a chilling glow, 
Love's lantern burning dim. 

Summer's sun that fiercely burns 
A parched imploring earth, and spurns 
A thousand rains that would relieve 
Scorched fields, dry streams, and give reprieve, 
Is passion run amuck. 

Sunlight in autumn days that shines, 
Is incense hung o'er dying shrines, 
A broken-hearted fleeting breath, 
All saddened by decay and death, 
An autumn's sun is sorrow. 

But oh, the sunlight of the spring, 
Stirring to depths each living thing, 
Is as a lover's first fair kiss, 
Sweet through and through, an utter bliss, 
Spring sunshine is young love. 



39 



RENEWAL 

T7IOLETS out by the brook, 

Bird notes lure in the wind, 
Casting aside my book, 

I turn to your path by the bend. 

All of the life you adored, 
There in the old, old places, 

Saved and winter-stored, 

Sweet with the same old graces. 

But you, oh, where are you, 
While life renews its strain, 

Far off there in the blue 
Do you, too, live again? 



40 



APRIL AWAKENING 

[ WOKE to hear the rain, 

An April morning sweet with summer, 
Beating tattoe refrain, 

In restless music murmur, 
Against my window pane. 

And all my heart was stirred, 

Life's old and calm emotions died, 

My soul soared like a bird, 
Its freedom long denied, 

Buoyant with hope deferred. 

Across the misty lea 

In that sweet April dim and wet, 
Awakening flower and tree 

From winter's long regret 
Came Love, Spring's gift to me. 



4i 



CHILDHOOD FAITH 

POME close from out the weary years, 

Dear elfin days of long ago, 
Light-hearted days of make-believe 

That once again my heart may know 
Fairies and gnomes and all their train. 

Come, bring again light heart's joys, 
As marble play and skipping rope, 

And I'll forget my hair grows grey, 
And life is moving down the slope, 

Forget in happiness renewed. 

For I am weary of the things 

We struggle for through years mature; 
They seem but tinsel as I move 

Toward the shadow and their lure — 
The lure of dross, unreal, untrue. 

Come, days, from out the years between 
To-day and those lost yesterdays, 

And warm my heart with happy thoughts 
That move along gay primrose ways — 

Thoughts that were never mine for loosing. 

Let old hopes rest where they have died 
Along the path, I shall not grieve 

That I have missed much I desired, 

And craved and thought I must achieve, 

If I may keep my childhood's faith. 

It shall sustain me to the end, 

This simple faith in heaven and earth, 

In God above the universe, 

His wondrous promise of rebirth, 

And glorious immortality. 



42 



HIDDEN GOLD 

(Written for Dr. Henry Wald Bettmann) 

TyTANY see beauty in the starlight, 

Or in the sunrise of a perfect day, 
And few may miss the rhythm of a bird's flight, 
Or the glories of a blossoming month of May, 
I would not loose of these, and yet I pray 
To prize the hidden gold of every day. 

There's beauty in a task well done, 

Though it may be a task that's commonplace — 
The beauties I would know of victories won, 

That mean perhaps a betterment of race, 
The beauty in those souls of common lot, 
Daily heroic, but who count it not. 

Beauty in work I crave to know, 

And in the simple duties of my hands 

As well as beauty in the starlight's glow, 
And beauty that a perfect art commands, 

That I may move assured to set of sun, 

My tasks in full appreciation done. 



43 



FEAR 

T ORD, take away from me 

Fear thoughts that cloud my days, 
And let me move serene 
To meet life's every phase. 

Blot fear from out my mind, 
And let my soul be clear 

Of it forevermore, 

Nor feel its presence near. 

Whether I lose or gain 
On this terrestrial sphere, 

Lord, grant me this one boon, 
To miss the curse of fear. 



44 



PYRAMIDS 

"\A70ULDST build a gorgeous pyramid, 

As Egypt did of old, 
And point it upward to the sky, 
Your name 'gainst time to hold? 

Nay, do not build your monument 

Of stones or jewels rare; 
But build it up of loving deeds, 

Posterity may share. 

Stone pyramids are futile things, 
At best, the stones may stay — 

But men will soon forget the name 
Of him who passed that way. 

But he who builds that others may 
Be helped by what he wrought, 

Builds marvelously, a monument 
Of ever-living thought. 



45 



NON-SUPPORT! 

QO many words to use 

In English and so few 
We speak and those abuse 
Often most carelessly. 

I dreamed last night that all 
The unused words held court; 

Gaily there came at call 
Words almost obsolete. 

And such a counseling, 
And such an indignation, 

I woke a-shivering 

In heavy perspiration. 

Perhaps things will be righted, 
For the English-speaking people 

Were solemnly indicted 

On a charge of non-support! 



4 6 



MISTRESS PLAY 

JUST as I turn into the valley 
You come with eyes of blue, 
And Maytime, smile and joyous guile, 
Beckoning me for the last brief while, 
Oh, careless Mistress Play! 

Too late I have forgotten how, 
In all those weary years 
Of work-a-day, the name of play, 
And now I cannot come your way, 
Oh, heartless Mistress Play! 

Yet is the fault mine own, for I 
Would build a pyramid 
Of shining gold in days of old 
Gold have I, but am poor, behold, 
Oh, futile Mistress Play! 



47 



THE POINT OF VIEW 

LIVE with dreams and visions, 
And let the world go by, 
A-seeking foolish idols 

And things that gold will buy. 



I 



My neighbors revel gaily, 
Pursuing pseudo pleasure, 

And burn their lives up daily, 
But me— I try for leisure. 

For me, a book, a thought, 
A cottage in a wood ; 

Then has life truly brought 
A great and lasting good. 



48 



VICTORS OF DESTINY 

T AM the God of Circumstance, 

I rule with iron rod; 
And he who overcomes my will 

Is like unto a God, 
So firm is my decree. 

I hold all life in my control — 
In grim and stern embrace — 

A few there are who loose my hold, 
Supermen of the race, 

Unconquered in defeat. 

It does not matter where I place 

Souls in heroic mold, 
Nor wealth nor poverty can keep 

Them from a meted goal, 
Victors of destiny. 



49 



MAY 



T?ROM a fairy kingdom far away 

Comes joyous laughing May, 
With a dash of gold in her hair 
And a winsome delicate air. 
Oh, she is a maiden fair, 
Without a trace of care; 
But I say to you now, beware, 
For May is a gay coquette! 

All of a sudden she is here, 

Sauciest month of the year, 

With a wonderful smile for to-day, 

That is happy and glad and gay; 

But a smile that does not stay, 

Oh careless, careless May, 

Tears are not far away 

From the smile of this gay coquette! 

Yet all of the world loves laughing May, 

And why, why not I, pray? 

Over the garden wall, 

Down by the water fall, 

There in the poplar tall 

You can feel her mystic call, 

Coquetry in it all; 

But it snares my heart forever! 



50 



MY SHIP 

(For Margaret and Victor) 

T SEARCH the far horizon for my Ship, 
My Ship that must at last come home to me, 

Weighted with all the gold of heart's desire, 
Sailing majestic on a sunlit sea. 

Bearing the cargo of my dreams come true, 
Wishes and hopes and plans of all my days, 

All that I am and all I hope to be 

After the storm and stress and long delays. 

Dear Love, for you I crave this Ship of mine 
Shall sail serene at last into the view, 

For all its treasure trove is but a shrine 
On which I offer up my soul to you. 



5i 



ROSES 



JPOSES — white roses— 

Brides' flowers of purity, 
So stately and so churchly 
Blooming for marriage altars. 

Roses — pink roses — 
A debutante may claim; 
They cry aloud her fame, 
Rosebud in a garden of girls. 

Roses — red roses — 
Were ever heroes' flowers, 
Sung through historic hours 
And saved for martyrs' graves. 

Roses — gold roses — 
Since none have bid for you, 
I choose your saffron hue 
Because I love you best. 



52 



TO A REPLICA OF CHESTER BEACH'S 
NIGHT 

'"PINY fac-simile in rippling line, 

With sleepy hands clasping ringlets in curl, 
Your soft robe falling from a form divine, 
I watch you as the twilight shades unfurl. 

Your beauty through the dark's a shaft of light, 
Stirring my soul like music soft and low, 

Or violets in the spring or birds in flight, 
Or as some glorious sunset's final glow. 

You glide into the dark star crowned and fair, 
Moving my heart to mad adventuring, 

In fairy worlds lost to all sense of care ; 
Oh, take me with you to eternal Spring! 



53 



TRAIL'S END 



CO I come back to you 

From varied paths and ways — 
From far adventures that 
Absorbed in other days. 

My heart has been at times 
A wayward thing, I know; 

But now it seeks you out 
Again in sunset glow. 

Be not too critical; 

Take what I offer now; 
Love cannot be compelled 

By law or lock or vow. 



54 



BLUE ROOKWOOD 

JuTY Rookwood vase is blue — the blue of 
dreams — 

With one great shadowy bird in decoration; 
And when the sunlight on the blueness gleams, 

A thousand day dreams spring into sensation. 

The myriad blues in all of fairyland 

Stand there revealed in glistening gorgeous 
tint — 

Shades that gay fancy only can command — 
Unearthly blue, inspired and heaven sent. 

The blue of summer skies, the twilight blue— 
The blue of sea, the blue of splendid flowers — 

The blue of heaven and earth both old and new, 
Caught in a vase to tease luxurious hours. 



55 



LIFE-LURE 

T AM akin to the pink wild rose; 

I am akin to the butterfly; 
All of life that grows and blows, 
Is a part of me and I of it. 

Yet only a few of its moods I know, 

Though I am soul kin to it all; 
Color there in the sunset glow, 

That is part of me I cannot fathom. 

And this, perhaps, is life's great lure; 

Its curious hidden mysteries; 
I know this is why I crave to endure 

As long as the stars and the skies and the seas. 



56 



ON NIGHT DUTY 

gILENCE and darkness all about, 

And all the world asleep, 
Save those whom duty calls at night, 
Who run the presses, nurse the sick, 
Guard life on land or deep, 
Or in like manner serve mankind. 

Tenseness of day is lost for those 
Who labor through the night ; 
The surge of life, the tide of blood, 
That rises up to meet the dawn 
With each succeeding light 
Is still, emotion in a trance. 

Lost all that troubled sense of life's 

Vast hoard of weariness, 

That throbs resistless in the day 

A soothing quiet over all 

Seems but to gently bless 

And breathe of benediction peace. 

Why struggle so for crowded days, 

So runs my weary thought, 

Nursing a man to whom death comes 

Day rush or night peace, what, after all, 

Has the circle of life ever brought 

That we should crave it forever intensely? 



57 



CAST YOUR BREAD" 

VOU brought a blessing to me, 

Stranger out of the night, 
Who begged a penny from me, 
With a face so starved and white, 

A penny I gave, but, oh! 

It returned a thousand fold; 
For the money one gives the poor 

Is mystic, magic gold. 



58 



MY FLAG 



]y[Y flag, your flag, 

Forever may it fly 
Unsullied 'gainst the sky, 
Its red and white and blue, 
Emblem of all that's true, 
Honest and brave. 

My flag, your flag, 
Flag of United States. 
Oh, may the kindly fates 
Who give the victory 
To us, a people free, 
Smile ever on us! 

My flag, your flag, 
Emotions stir and seethe 
With every breath I breathe, 
Pride in and love of you, 
My own red, white and blue- 
Our flag, our flag! 



59 



OLD-FASHIONED FLOWERS 

T LOVE old-fashioned flowers best, 

Because they're dear with sentiment; 
Wild phlox and pinks and mignonette 
Shall in my garden grow content. 

And I will not uproot them for 

Some newer blossom worth unknown; 

That's but a fad this passing hour, 
And from a foreign seed is grown. 

To me old-fashioned flowers are 

Like splendid friends that are tried and 
true, 

And I will not deny their worth 

For the gayest posy strange and new. 



60 



YELLOW ROSES 

QLD-FASHIONED yellow roses, 

Upon a prickly stem, 
How far you take me backward 
To twilights old and dim. 

Old-fashioned yellow roses, 
With fragrance, oh, so sweet, 

Upon one summer twilight 
You made a world complete! 

Old-fashioned yellow roses, 
She wore affirming love, 

And nothing was so golden 
In earth or heaven above. 

Old-fashioned yellow roses, 

Upon her pinafore; 
My first sweetheart of eight, 

Myself but one year more! 

Old-fashioned yellow roses, 
Fragrant with memories, 

You give my heart new faith 
In far eternities. 



61 



HEART OF GOLD 

LITTLE heart of gold— 

That's how I love to think of you — 
So fine, so loyal, and so true — 
Little wife of mine. 

Sweetheart of mine, 
Your faith and love light all my way 
Throughout the hard and busy day — 
Little wife of mine. 

Dearest of all — 
Sharing my joys and sorrows — 
Sustaining me for dim to-morrows — 
Little wife of mine. 

Little heart of gold, 
All life to me, dear, centers you; 
My earth and hope of heaven, too, 
Little wife of mine. 



62 



KEEPING THE VICTORY (Memorial Day, 
1921) 

(Written for Mrs. Andrew H. Foppe) 

'pHEY sleep, 

Our glorious hero dead, 
And we 

For whom they nobly bled 
Live on. 

Fields where they bravely fell 
To-day 

Mutely the story tell, 
Still red 

The earth with heroes' blood 
For us 

Poured out in crimson flood. 
They fought 

False gods that lure men on 
And on 

Futile from dawn to dawn. 
So much 

They gave — their all — that we, 
Their own, 

Might be forever free. 
Their all 

They gave so willingly. 

We live. 

Shall we be negligent 
Of those 

Ideals for which they spent 
Themselves? 

Dear God, forbid. To-day 
Let us 

Lift up our hearts and pray 
Anew 

The patriot's prayer. To be 
Of their 

Great sacrifice worthy; 

63 



To hold 

No selfish thought, but stand 
Loyal 

To this, our splendid land. 
Then shall 

We keep their victory, 
Their faith, 

Who died across the sea — 
Their faith, 

Who died to keep us free. 



64 



COURAGE 

r^OURAGE that conquers when the cause 
seems lost, 
Nor stops nor falters, but moves all before — 
Courage that knows no fear, that counts no 
cost — 
The courage sung of old in heroes' lore — 
Lord, give me that. 

Courage to champion the weak, not fail, 

To take my stand unfaltering for the right — 
Courage that in the test I may not quail, 
Nor turn if I shall meet wrong linked with 
might. 

Lord, give me that. 

Courage that burns throughout the darkest night 
Like some white flame beckoning to victory — 

Courage that stands a pinnacle of light, 
The hope of souls that would be free. 
Lord, give me that. 

Courage that I may pluck from out my soul 
The fear thought, that great scourge of all the 
years — 
Courage that I may cling to my high goal 

Even through failure, bitterness, and tears — 
Lord, give me that. 



65 



JONATHAN'S SONG 

pRIENDSHIPS I've had a-plenty 

As friendships go: 
Friendships at one and twenty, 

In youth's gold glow; 
Friendships in stabler years 

Of suited liking, — 
Friendships of mad adventure, 

Of spirit Viking — 
But this friendship you give me 

Is different, too, 
For all my other friendships, 

Both false and true, 
Have lingered for their turn 

And then moved on, 
And I have never grieved much 

When they had gone; 
They served their time and purpose, 

It is life's way; 
But your friendship, my dear, 

I hope and pray 
May be with me forever — 

Aye, — and a day. 

I could not lose you, dear, 

Except my heart 
Broke utterly, so much 

You are a part 
Of me, the cornerstone 

Of all my days, 
My shining, golden light 

In shadowy ways; 
My comfort in distress; 

All we have shared — 
Great joys, and greater sorrows; 

When I have fared 
Far, far afield, you came, 

Lovingly came, 

66 



Your presence like a flame, 

A living flame, 
Keeping my courage taut 

In the dark night. 
Love is a wondrous thing, 

Life's sunny light, 
Yet I would not crave it 

Must I agree 
To give in an exchange 

As final fee 
Our Jonathan-David 

Affinity. 



THE FOURTH 



QNCE again the Fourth 

With fireworks bursting forth, 
And oratory, too, 
'Mid much red, white and blue — 
'Rah, 'Rah. 

And underneath the whole 

America's great goal, 

Freedom for all, a-shining 

Like some dark cloud's bright lining 

In a world all topsy-turvy — 

'Rah, 'Rah. 

There's no day of the year 
That stirs deep down, sincere, 
Love of the flag and country 
And pride of history 
Like this, our glorious Fourth — 
'Rah, 'Rah. 



68 



SALUTE 

(Written for Mrs. Wilmer H. Crawford) 

CALUTE! 

° Unrolled there to the breeze 

Is the most glorious flag on earth ; 

In lands across the seas 
Its splendid red and white and blue 

Has carried freedom's story 
To all the nations of the world— 

Our beautiful Old Glory ! 

Salute ! 

In deepest loyalty 
Rise to the challenge of your flag, 

Flag of the brave and free. 
It is the emblem of the best 

That life and love can give ; 
Under its stars and stripes it is 

A pride and joy to live. 

Salute ! 

Thinking who died for you, 
Those who on battlefields upheld 

That square of starry blue, 
And as you pass that radiant flag 

Uncover reverently, 
Sacred, your flag, my flag, our flag, 

Through all eternity. 



69 



HONEYSUCKLE 

EMBROIDERED fragrance like to which 

Ihere is no other scent, I vow, 
Comes glorious through the summer night 
And makes a paradise of Now. 

Roses' perfume I also love, 

And that of other blossoms, too, 

But honeysuckle scent combines 
Glories Araby never knew. 



70 



MY GARDEN 

]y[Y Garden is a charmed spot 

Because my friends are often there, 
And each leaves in my garden plot 
A legacy of loving thought. 



7i 



IN A SYMPHONY GALLERY 

T SIT up here in the gallery and I look far down 

below 
At the boxes in gilded glory and the red plush 

seats in a row 
Right under the Maestro's stand, 
But I envy them not who have silks and lace and 

great glass cars outside; 
It is nothing to me, who possess my soul, that 

riches are denied 
When the Maestro lifts his hand. 

Class and distinction, pomp and power are lost 
in a whirl of sound; 

There's storm and sun and anger and joy, emo- 
tions all profound 
Unrolled by the Maestro's band, 

And all little mean and human thoughts are lost 
in a revel of light, 

There's a halo around the Maestro's head, and 
he is a god of might, 
A power in the land. 

And my distant place is a vantage point and my 

seat a very throne; 
Oh, a thousand golden thoughts are mine with 

the orchestra's every tone, 
At the baton's firm command. 
And I am the richest of all the rich and richer 

far than they, 
If they have not gained for their very own the 

symphony music to-day 
From the Maestro's magic hand. 



72 



A THANKSGIVING PRAYER 

(Written for Miss Jeanie Duncan McKee) 

T ORD, make me grateful for the gifts I have 
to-day, 

My shelter overhead, my health, my work, my 
play, 

Grant me to know that such are blessings mani- 
fold, 

In days like these when all the world seeks only 
gold. 

Give me to feel that boon of joy in daily living, 
That friends, good deeds, and kindly thoughts 

are ever giving; 
Help me to truly see the real of life from dross, 
To prize my spirit gain nor grieve for dollar loss. 

Let me not pass along the valley here unheeding 
Those simple, kindly acts the world's to-day 

most needing, 
With eyes closed to the sunshine and ears dull 

to the rain, 
Seeking but selfishly a momentary gain. 

Grant me to hold and give in turn true friend- 
ship's best, 

Let my frail soul stand clean in truth and honor's 
test, 

And lead me to that final goal that flesh denies, 

Along the narrow way unto Christ's paradise. 



73 



TO A DEBUTANTE 

r IKE a gorgeous butterfly 

Flitting gaily by, 
Sipping parties as so many roses; 
Life's a round of posies 
On a path that leads through Fairyland. 

Take a care, my pretty one; 

E'er the season's sun 

Comes a plumed knight of gay romance 

At a tea or dance, 

Binding life within a golden band! 



74 



'TO-MORROW IS ANOTHER DAY" 

gOMETIMES when plans go all awry 
And all the world seems sad and gray, 

A sentence cheers my flagging zeal — 
"To-morrow is another day." 

Ah, comfort to my mind and soul, 
When all my hopes have gone astray- 

I still shall have my chance again; 
"To-morrow is another day." 

What if to-day my courage failed, 
Or yesterday some dull delay 

Caused me to miss the goal I sought, 
"To-morrow is another day." 

To-morrow — ah, the very word 
Illumines bright my troubled way. 

Thank God for that fair hope within— 
"To-morrow is another day." 



75 



MY LITTLE HOUSE 

TV/TY little house that shelters me, 
Is like some dear, kind friend, 
Into its arms I fly from days of stress and strain ; 
Close to its heart I cuddle up, 
And whisper out my soul, 

And it cheers me, warms me, loves me, until I 
try again. 

My little house is a part of me, 

For I put it here myself; 

Many years it lived in my heart before it stood 

on the street, 
And I loved it to being and struggled long 
To make it really come true; 
The putting it there where it stands was a task 

both hard and sweet. 

My little house is a snug, tiny place, 

In a village near the town; 

It's not very costly or big and it's neither grand 

nor fine, 
But all of my heart and soul respond 
To its tender love and care; 
It's the realest thing in my life, this dear little 

house of mine. 

My little house knows all of my life, 

All of my visions and dreams; 

Into its heart I pour my secrets grave or gay, 

All of my plans and hopes it shares — 

Dumb to the world outside, 

But, oh! to me a comforter of every day. 

My little house, I am quite, quite sure, 
Has a soul of its very own, 

And when I fail some day at last to cross its 
door, 

7 6 



I know full well it will shake and sigh, 
And mourn in its own sad way, 
For my little house will miss me when I am here 
no more. 



77 



PILGRIM . . . Tercentenary . . . POEM 

"EMITTING that we who have the heritage 

Of these three hundred years 
Should backward turn us to that earlier page 
That tells of Plymouth Rock. 

Fitting it is that we should think again 

Their thoughts, see their ideals, 
Nor count of narrow mold those Pilgrim men 

Who set their mark on life. 

And who among us in this latter day, 

Because we differ now, 
Shall careless hold their thought or plan or way 

Whose gift's to us immortal? 

And after all is not our difference minor? 

They held for truth and honor 
As we to-day, who count no impulse finer 

Their best ideals are ours. 

What if they were perhaps stern and austere? 

Their serious time required it; 
They had the faith and courage of a year 

That called aloud for heroes. 

Ah, let us hold to all the best they knew; 

Their best was well worth while. 
The legacy they gave us tried and true, 

Our hope, their monument, 



7 8 



NEWSPAPER IDYL 

(In the vernacular) 

[ LOVE to feel news stirring, 

And to hear the presses whirring; 
There's nothing else in life to me so dear 
As the office, and the ever-present fear 

Of rivals who'll be scooping, 

If I'm not forever snooping 
On the trail of festive items far and near. 

I love the mad careering 

When edition time is nearing, 

And a story's just about to get away, 
An incident to spoil a fellow's day — 

Oh, the telephones a-ringing, 

And at last the news a-singing 

From typewriter to linotype, Hooray ! 

Oh, I tell you, this is living; 

In my soul I'd be forgiving 

The worst that life has ever done to me 

If they let me hang my hat up near the key 

Of the telegraph, a-ticking 

The world's pulse, and a-picking 

Up the great big news all over land and sea. 

For printer's ink's a-trickling 
In my veins and ever tickling 

Me to surge to doughty battles for the news ; 

And I know, without the offer, I'd refuse, 
As against a Texas oil boom, 
My job here in the newsroom; 

It's funny, but I know how I would choose. 

Oh, I'd like to stay at writing, 
My daily scoops inditing, 

Right up to the last minute of them all. 

And when I answer to the "thirty" call, 

79 



May the Chief where I am going, 
My predilection knowing, 

In a daily press my soul at once install. 

And when I adventure dying, 

May it be to newsboys crying 

A great big story that has come my way 

In gorgeousness of proud, front-page display; 

For then I'd go out snappy 

And greet my heaven happy 

As the climax of a really perfect day. 



80 



MOON-MAGIC 

PATCHES of moonlight on the sea 

Move all my soul in ecstasy; 
Something, I cannot tell just what, 
Brings back old memories long forgot — 
Bits of romance and bits of song 
I have not thought of in, oh! so long; 
Faces I loved in the long ago 
Are there in the moonlight's pale, soft glow. 
Magic there is, weird and eerie, 
In nights of moonlight on the sea. 



81 



INFINITY 



r OVE, put your hand in mine, 

And turn your eyes to me, 
For in your touch and glance 
I find Infinity. 



82 



DREAM FACES 

QUT of the night I heard your call, 

Weirdly, hauntingly sweet; 
A mixture of music dreamed of, dear, 
And like dream music, fleet. 

And then your face shone out of the dark, 
Strangely, beautifully clear, 

And I could almost touch your hand, 
You seemed so truly near. 

Visions in dreams, how do they come, 

Oddly, teasingly real; 
Lingering just for a word or a smile, 

Or a momentary thrill. 



83 



HOME LIGHTS 

T IGHTS that shine when the night is clear, 

Lights on a vista of street, 
Twinkling and blinking far and near, 
Lights that are bright or discreet. 

Lights that glow in the glistening rain 

Sheen on the city's street; 
Lights that jewel a window pane 

In raindrop's beauty fleet. 

Lights more glorious than all the rest, 

Home lights shining for me, 
Love light in eyes that I love best, — 

Light of eternity. 



84 



TWO VERSES 

[ CAUGHT a verse from out the sunlit sky 

And sung it loudly for all men to hear, 
But not one paused a moment, passing by, 
My lovely song was lost with none to care. 

Another day I made myself a rhyme, 

And sang it fearsome in the market place, 

And all the people stopped and cried "sublime!" 
It made my fortune in a single hour. 

But what, you say, can be the cause of this? 

My friend, the joyous lines that first I penned 
Were of that thing etherial, Heaven's bliss; 

My second verse extolled the joys of earth. 



85 



SIX-THIRTY 

QASTLES I build in the night, 

Held fast by the Dream King's might, 
Over vast oceans of gold, 
Studded with rubies untold, 

I sail with a pirate crew. 
Wonderful treasures are mine — 
Diamonds that glitter and shine, 
Emerald yachts for pleasure, 
And slaves for great, good measure, 

Could I but bring them to you ! 

What is that noise like a thunder 
Shaking my hold on my plunder, 
Dashing my hopes to the ground — 
Ominous, terrible sound, 

Calling aloud to me, 
Making me shake and shiver, 
And my whole soul stand a-quiver, 
Startling my heart with mad fear, 
Ending my gorgeous career— 

Six-thirty? Oh, can it be? 



86 



LIFE MYSTERY 

r IFE, answer back the cause of living, 

Of all the heartache and forgiving, 
Of all the struggling and the striving, 
Of all the failure or arriving — 
Why, tell me why? 

Must I go on and never knowing 
Even the way that I am going? 
Silence to all my questioning 
From Life that knows all — everything — 
Save its own mystery. 



87 



CONSOLATION 

^O my lost love, the love that I adore, 

I write a little preachment here to-day; 
To my lost love, whom I shall see no more 
Because my path is made another way. 

For often in the pauses of my day 

Remembrance taps a finger on my door; 

I fancy once again the time is May 
Of the spring we met eternal, evermore. 

And the days and years between us fade away, 
And your kisses search my lips, as long ago. 

Ah, the passion that we felt that far-off May, 
It was immortality, my dear, to know. 

What matters it our lives are far apart, 

That our two paths to different goals have led? 

The best you had to give is mine, dear heart, 
The best of me is yours . . . and all is said. 

And if you, too, turn back the years sometime, 
Be not, dear love, mine own, disconsolate, 

For once to touch a moment so sublime 
Is to have known the best in human fate. 



88 



TWO THOUSAND 

gIRDSONGS athwart the dawn 

Are vivid crimson red; 
The sunrise from my window 
Sings of the night that's dead. 

Nay, gentle reader, pause not 
To wonder as you read; 

We're now in year Two Thousand, 
And verse must meet the need. 

Of universal art 

Color and sound the same 
The poet must reflect 

To gain eternal fame. 



89 



PORTALS OF HOME 

(Reprinted from Progress) 

'THRESHOLDS of home are sacred portals 

Safeguard them well, 
That only those you love of mortals 
Shall enter there. 

For each who crosses o'er your doorway 

Leaves thought within, 
And so, that only fair thoughts stay, 

Guard well your portals. 



90 



VAGABONDING 

T SAT there at the concert; 

They played a splendid score 
Written by some great master 

In mystic days of yore. 

But I heard naught of it; 

My body sat quiescent, 
But my mind went vagabonding 

On pathways dull or pleasant. 

It went a-marketing, 

And paid the monthly rent, 

And bought a brand-new gown, 
Then turned at last content 

To listen to the music, 

But the score was now complete 
The time to hear had vanished 

In music moments fleet! 



91 



LOVE SONG 



T2ECAUSE I love you so 

The world is not the same; 
Days were, before you came, 
Just stolid hour on hour; 
But now the moments flower 
Golden with dreams of you, 
Skies are a deeper blue, 
Roses more rarely sweet, 
All time is swiftly fleet 
Because, Sweetheart, I love you. 

All that you mean to me, 

Dear, you could never know. 

Once in the long ago 

Real love I thought I knew, 

But the fair dreams that grew 

Deep in my heart were pale, 

Faint images that fail. 

This love that you inspire 

Is an eternal fire — 

All that you mean to me. 

Earth and heaven, too, 
These you mean to me — 
Life and eternity. 



92 



LOVE'S COMING 

rOVE came to me on golden wings 

In his first wondrous wooing, 
As gorgeous as a bird that sings 
Framed in a golden plumage. 

In guise of wealth love came to me, 

Easy to take and give — 
Jewels and flowers his company, 

Mansions and motors his due. 

Like some bright sun, too bright to last, 

He faded and was gone, 
Leaving me crucified to the mast 

Of all that might have been. 

Then once again love came to me, 
The love that is love alone ; 

Of struggle and of poverty, 
Stripped to bare nakedness. 

I took him, doubting, to myself; 

He cheered me with his truth; 
Forgotten is the love of wealth, 

For this new love is lasting. 



93 



SNOW BIRDS 



QNOW birds on my window sill 

Begging for a breakfast. 
Frozen every dale and hill, 
Holding Earth's repast. 

Such a cheery chattering, 
Worth a world of gold! 

All the thanks a crumb will bring 
Days of wintry cold! 



94 



STAR ABOVE THE CHRISTMAS TREE 
(Reprinted from Saxby's Magazine) 

A GAIN shines out the magic of that wonder- 
ful old story, 

Of the manger and the Magi and the star in all 
its glory; 

Oh, what a golden hope gleams from the star 
for all the earth, 

From that far distant century, o'er the cradle of 
His birth! 

Yet how obscure its heaven-sent ray in these 

mad, hurried days, 
When war's deep red and ugly scars blight all 

our peaceful ways; 
When famine stalks gaunt-eyed and dread in 

lands across the sea, 
And here at home men's fight material daily 

dims its plea. 

And yet the message of the Christ is there for 
all to know; 

The call to love of fellow man is in that steady 
glow, 

As true as it has ever been the story of that ONE 

Who gave his life that all might live, the Fa- 
ther's only Son. 

Oh, pause, ye peoples, in these tarnished times 
when flesh alone 

Seems to sway all, and high ideals seem lost in 
depths unknown! 

And lift your eyes up to the star above the 
Christmas tree, 

Symbol of Bethlehem's star, promise of Immor- 
tality. 



95 



IN A WEDDING RING 

[ COUNT my friendships over one by one 

And wonder which of them will stand the 
test,-— 
So soon out of the stress and strain to come 

Let those remain, dear Lord, that I love best. 
I count them prayerfully, 
I count them carefully; 
Perhaps not even one will turn aside 

So slight this test, and I am innocent, 
A thing so small that but for my high pride 

My word would clear of question in a moment. 

I count my friendships here to-night once more, 

My Crisis past. My eyes dry of their tears; 
Quick, help me bar, dear love, the battered door 

To those who would explain so many fears. 
I count them so inanely; 
I count them — ah! — profanely. 
To think that friendship is so slight a thing 

That one small doubt should such great havoc 
make. 
Thank God for you, whose simple wedding ring 

Encompasses all griefs for Love's dear sake! 



96 



MY CHRISTMAS, YOUR CHRISTMAS 

TV/TY Christmas wreath hung gaily in the win- 
dow, 
Its holly berries shining bright as blood. 
My Christmas tree was gay with candles' glow; 
I lacked but that one thing, the Christmas 
Mood. 

It seemed so strange to me, my heart was cold 
When all the world was warm, and glad, and 
gay, 

And somehow I seemed, oh, so sad, and old, 
There was no joy for me in Christmas Day. 

I could not think at first why it was so, 
I only knew that it was much amiss; 

And then it came, as one at last will know, 
Why I had lacked the season's joyousness. 

Because my wreath was just for me alone, 
And no one shared my Christmas gifts with 
me; 

Because the candles on my tree that shone 
Gleamed but for one, for whom alone the tree. 

Now, opening wide my door, I shout aloud 
To come within to every passer-by — 

Ragged and poor, they are a motley crowd, 
But all my Christmas time they glorify. 



97 



DEATH IN OLD AGE 

F^EAR, put your arms about me 

As in the long ago, 
And lay your cheek to mine 

That I may feel it glow, 
And life run riot through me, 

That my old heart may know 
Once more the strength of loving 

Before my time to go. 

But no! I am forgetting 

You cannot come to me, 
For you have gone before 

To dim Eternity. 
I am so old, so old, 

The passing days I see 
As in a misty mirror, 

And long so to be free. 

Dear, put your arms about me; 

Nay, children, do not weep; 
I am not dreaming now — 

She has come back to keep 
Her promise to my youth; 

Her love, so strong and deep, 
Has bridged at last the way. 

My feeble senses creep. 
Ah, see, she stoops, my dear! — 

Oh, what a wondrous . . . sleep 



98 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE 

(Written for Mrs. Thomas E. Hanlon) 

A LONE near to the mountain's top there grew 

up fine and straight 
A wistful little cedar tree that craved a boon of 

Fate— 
"I fly no blossoms to the light," the little cedar 

cried — 
"I give no joy to anything," the little cedar 

sighed. 

Alone there near the mountain top the pensive 
little tree 

Poured out its heart to every breeze in ever- 
longing plea; 

Up to the stars one willful wind whispered the 
cedar's woe, 

And they shone on it more tenderly, a radiant 
softened glow. 

There came a kindly Forester along the moun- 
tain's base 

And built himself a cabin in a safely sheltered 
place, 

And brought thereto a gold-haired bride — care- 
less of wind or weather — 

Those two,, for love was theirs, and glorious 
stretch of years together. 

Perhaps the stars had planned it with the breezes 

long ago, 
The how of it or where of it I truly do not 

know — 
But the cedar tree, a-quivering and a-shining 

with delight, 
Stood in the cabin glorified one wondrous 

Christmas night. 



99 



MY GRATE FIRE 

A GAINST the cold, wet day my fire gleams 
** bright, 

A beacon leading on to joys of home, 
To books I love, rare volumes of delight, 

More to my heart than some rich guarded 
tome. 

To sit and read there in the firelight glow 
Some simple verse long of myself a part, 

And dream and think — this is indeed to know 
A happiness that warms the restless heart. 

In all the rush and strain of life to-day, 

When most the world seeks joys much money 
buys, 
To value true, real happiness, I pray, 

And those dear joys and heart and home most 
prize. 



100 



MY PEAR TREE 

j^ KNARLED old pear tree rises up 

There by my bedroom window, 
Its branches, like a wondrous cup, 
In flowering time spilling 
A snowy, blossomy, heavenly white 
Along my casement ledge, 
Illumining all my day and night 
With rare and delicate beauty. 

It is like a friend, this bent old tree, 

Mine own since childhood's days, 

Guarding me there so silently, 

Intimate of my life, 

One of my first remembered things — 

That are forever dear — 

A part of my inner consciousness 

To my dreams at evening near, 

And sentinel of my days. 

It seems a splendid thing to me 

That one should go through life 

Guarded so by a fine old tree. 

With an almost human love, 

Of its shade and its fruit and its tender care 

And its glories in the spring 

It has given me freely, more than my share, 

Mothering me year by year. 

Before I came, my pear tree stood 

There by my window and waited 

For me — feeling, I know, that I would 

Forever understand. 

Deep in its heart is sacredly treasured 

My first thin, wavering cry; 

Oh, I hope it will still be growing there 

When it comes my time to die, 

To waft my soul on high. 

101 



CLOCKS 



'JMCKING, ticking, ticking 

Remorselessly away 
The moments of my day 
And night. 

How many times I've wanted, 
By a second only daunted, 
Some magic, mystic power 
To lengthen just one hour. 
And then 

There have been moments when, 
If only clocks had stopped 
And a few minutes dropped, 
My world would have been changed, 
All that could be arranged 
If one, 

Old ways and thoughts forsaking, 
Could have each day the making 
Of time. 

Ticking, ticking, ticking, 

Forever just the same 

While the world plays at its game 

Timed! 

And the hours that move on 

Are gone, forever gone; 

In standard lengths they move, 

Each day in the same groove. 

And I, 

In pondering that far sky 

And studying books profound— 

Of what may there astound 

Find time is measureless, 

In realms of which we guess. 

I hear 

With curious, throbbing joy 

No hours will annoy, 

Free, free. 

102 



HEALTH SONG 

(For Elizabeth Lape) 

'TVO-DAY I saw new beauties in 

The brook, the garden, and the sky, 
And all the round of daily life 

That often I've passed heedless by, 
For I, who have been ill so long, 
Am well and all my heart is song. 

How fair the flowers, how blue the sky ! 

The world seems changed to happiness, 
And I am looking through new eyes 

At glories I before scarce guessed. 
My blood runs like a new, mad thing 
And all my pulses throb and sing. 

Here by the garden bench I kneel 
Where I poured forth a month ago 

A prayer for health, to give my thanks 
To Him above who made it so, 

For I, who went so far, far down, 

Wear health to-day like some bright crown. 



103 



DULL STARS 



QH, to adventure out 

From days all cut upon a pattern — 
Oh, for a bit of doubt 

To give a zest to sordid living! 

I'm tired of life familiar, 

Of stupid rounds of months and days, 
I'm tired of my dull star 

That brings me always only sameness. 

Dear God, let me not die 

With this drab treadmill here my all; 
Under some sunnier sky 

Give me bright days of gay romance. 

Oh, grant that I may know 

Life far removed from just routine 
Before my time to go, 

Or let me cease to be at once! 



104 



SKY GARDENS 

(Written for Mrs. William Alexander Julian) 

QKY gardens have for me 
A subtle fascination; 
I love to leisurely 
Trace out their flower glories. 

I think I love the best 
The eastern sunrise gardens, 

Though gardens in the west 
At sunset too are splendid. 

I find such strange, sweet flowers 
In such odd, lovely hues — 

Roses, like golden hours, 
So bright they quickly fade. 

They're not like earthly posies, 
These flowers that bloom for me, 

And die like golden roses 
Beside the great sky sea, 

For they hold me with a rapture 

Only fairyland can give, 
And all my fancies capture — 

Fairy gardens of the skies. 



105 



STREET CARS 

J^UMBLY, jerky,— 

They would make my nerves a wreck, 
But my body only they convey; 
Far away, my thoughts, far away, 
Resting in green meadowlands of peace. 

Rumbly, jerky — 

Concentrated agony 

Of noise. All my soul would shattered be, 

But it sails a beautiful, calm sea 

In a gorgeous yacht, Imagination. 

Rumbly, jerky — 
"Ain't it awful !" cries a woman 
Jostled roughly up against my side; 
Mind and body both are in her ride, 
But myself I scarcely hear her talking. 

Rumbly, jerky — 

Lost the sense of this to me; 

Scarcely do I know what people say— 

I am sailing gaily on a bay 

Smooth as glass and stirred by fairy breeze. 

Rumbly, jerky — 

I am battered to and fro; 

Just my earthly clay is roughly shaken — 

Rides at ease my mind, to awaken 

Rested and refreshed at journey's end. 



106 



BOOK ENDS 

(For Margaret Pogue) 

gETWEEN you there you hold my world 

In five short feet ; 
The greatest thought that life has known 

My rare retreat. 
With you as starting point, I go 

Over far seas, 
And you reveal the secrets of 

Meadows and trees. 
Your book row tells me of great lives; 

I am inspired 
To live my life to high ideals. 

I'm never tired 
Of what's encompassed there between 

Your narrow length ; 
It is my life's high conning tower, 

My final strength. 



107 



ENEMIES 

\A7E would have, all of us, friends, friends, 

And yet consider, pray, 
The value of staunch enemies 
Along life's curious way. 

Few friends will frankly tell us of 

The faults we all possess; 
Largely from enemies we come 

To know of traits we guess. 

A good stout enemy will stir 

To fine, extended effort; 
He prods, he digs, he comes right out, 

While friends will stop to court. 

Lord, grant me friends a-many, a-many, 

But let me never be 
Surrounded only by my friends, 

With no good enemy. 



108 



TO BE HAPPY 

pjDW far we seek it and how near 

Is happiness; 
From one kind thought, from one kind deed 

It springs to bless. 
Yet restless over the world men go, 

And everywhere, 
Burning themselves out seeking it 

Now here, now there. 
Happiness is within men's hearts; 

It's not afar 
At the end of a shining rainbow or 

On some bright star. 
Men would try even miracles 

For this great boon — 
Stop this old world a-turning round, 

Or chain the moon 
To gain a bit of happiness. 

They will not see 
That it is seldom to be bought ; 

It's given freely 
To all who pattern after HIM 

Through gain or loss, 
The Shining One who died upon 

A wooden cross. 



109 



PAY ENVELOPES 



[ DIG and dig all week 

For pay-day with its gold; 
Exchange for life and work 
And leisure I have sold. 

Just a small envelope 

With a bit of earthly treasure, 
But it represents my courage 

And strength in equal measure. 

I try not to be a spendthrift, 
For a steward only am I ; 

I would give a bit and lend 
A bit, but most put by ; 

For money saved is a record 
Of human blood and effort, 

A symbol shining outward 
That cries aloud what sort. 



no 



HAPPINESS 



TJE sought for happiness 

Idly on land and sea, 
In various ways and places, 
But ever missed it sadly. 

And then he tied his soul 

To a monumental task, 
And now of the joy he sought 

He has all that a man could ask. 

Happiness comes to those 
Absorbed in work they love; 

They have no need to seek it — 
It's a gift from Heaven above. 



in 



VISTAS OF DISTANCE 

I GAZE here from my window 

At vistas most enchanting; 
Nature's own coquetry 
Spread out for all to see, 
Green grassy paths a-winding 
Into infinity. 

My garden from this window 
Is a place of hopes come true, 
Flowering each spring anew 
Under old skies of blue, 
It gives me faith for living 
And strength for dying, too. 



112 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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